private when winter brings sorrow // doepath

[sunshinespot]

Sunshinespot had lingered back. In the chaos, in the bloodshed, he could only do so little. Although not necessarily a pacifist, the tom fears his own inability to be harsh. His sister took a life in the mess of it all, and now he sees the pain and damage that it has done to her. He cannot fathom doing so to another himself. Perhaps if death threatened him and he had no choice... but of his own volition, no. He wonders if in his time missing, he's been softened further. Although a collar has never rung his neck, it itches as if one has.

The tom watches bodies as they're hauled away. They're to be set in a single grave unmarked by ThunderClan, banished from their sector of the stars. And of those who died... Sparrowpaw and Cobwebtail seem to be the only two who suffered. Sunshinespot swallows thickly his sigh of relief, the painful realization of all he could have lost in this heinous fight. His sisters, his brother, his father (he does not know yet.) His friends... Doepath.

He does not see her - not in the crowd, not in the medicine den. To a passing cat, he asks. "She's Doecry now," they say, blood spilling from a cut in their lip. "Check the medicine den. She might be there," Less could've been said and Sunshinespot couldn't have moved faster. The mottled tom, although usually slow with his gait, moves too-quickly through the throng of cats to reach the medicine den. Others are injured, waiting for attention from Gentlestorm and his plethora of helpful paws.

Amongst them is her. Tears in her eyes as she keeps close to Gentlestorm, helps him with his efforts, fears for the many weeping injuries he holds. She is focused through her grief.

Sunshine pauses in his gait. Selfish. He'd be selfish... if he was to stop her now.

He steps back from the den, passing an apology to the cats near him, before turning away. He finds his siblings, instead, and with them learns of their father's murder. He grieves, he mourns - the day bleeds to night and then day once more. Gentlestorm and Flamewhisker insist on leaving, and in the stunning silence of the day, Sunshinespot slowly makes his way back to the medicine den.

She's there, still. She's resting, though he can see the medicines and wrappings around her forepaw. Something of a monster's doing, he's heard through the grapevine. Sunshinespot swallows thickly, but even in this moment, he cannot smile for Doecry. His ears fold back as he moves closer, a soft, "Doe?" pulling from his lips. He cannot part with the second half. He cannot grieve over her moniker lost to the tribulations that lay behind them. She is Doe, a petal-soft, graceful creature who should've been allotted the freedom of the world - not the cage of this den.

"I've missed ya," he says, and he can't stop the tears from rimming his eyes. He bows his head, hunches over in his wide frame, before asking - "Is... is there still room for me, in there?" And he hopes, desperately, that there is.​

 

[doepath ࿔]

Icy veins, chilled by the hungry proximity of frigid stars, struggle to find warmth. Even in the touch of pelt against crimson encrusted fur, it is a hollow comfort. She'd plucked at the ground nervously, to listen intently to the faint rise and fall of his chest, struggled against the heaviness of her own exhaustion. By the time the howling and screaming from beyond the shrouded den's entrance had died down, the fawn she-cat had assumed the worst first; that it had been for nothing, that Gentlestorm's state was an indication of their fate; hard to win, to leave ThunderClan on the brink of death. She couldn't stumble out there to squish cobwebs into their wounds and pray; she was no medicine cat. Was not star-blessed.

At some point Flamewhisker had entered the den... followed by the ragged forms of others she could recognize as allies. Such relief had crashed against her that the pale molly hadn't noticed the snug grip of sleep wrapping over her eyes.

It's a thankless oblivion... the kind dipped in malicious ghouls and ghosts of violence. A young deer, chased through the tall deciduous trees with the starving growls of wolves on her heels... frantically racing through brush, bleating for a mother that won't answer. The roots of a tree lick around her ankle- the earth is hard, cold, and spells her death as she struggles to get to her feet-

"Doe?"

Bristling and a barely withheld hiss stops short at the sight of flaxen curls... ashen clouds.... pools of spring. The weeks of torment and strife melt the harsh planes of her face into softness- When did you get home? .... Question after question pops like bubbles bursting at the bottom of a waterfall, overwhelming the throbbing space in her head that works in overdrive to connect all the little pieces of him together. The smell of his fur, intoxicating in its comfort, the pinch of his eyes so tight it threatens to steal away the soft greens of his gaze completely... Sunshine...

The trials of a tyrant's reign go forgotten, scrambling to try to sit up, to reach her nose towards him and make sure it isn't some cruel joke. A trick of a half-awake state. And she tries until the press of a frail foot against flattened moss feels like lightning struck through her bones. Wincing and gritting her teeth to hold back a pained whine, Doecry wants nothing more than to not bring attention to it. To not remind his eyes that they see a broken, ugly thing.... something far less appealing than the soft, cloudy girl he'd left behind.

He crows in soft tones of missing her and frustratingly, her eyes well with tears immediately. "I missed you too," comes out strangled, though joyous. The prompt to lie together is answered with careful shifting and an eager nod- though her gaze scours the den for its other residents- Her whiskers twitch, anxiously, to notice a lack of one particularly important presence. She doesn't comment on it, instead flicking her gaze back towards Sunshinespot expectantly. "Stay with me.... please....?"​

 

[sunshinespot]

Although they had been separated for the better part of a moon, the tom knows too well the stirring of nightmarish whims. Her gaze finds him, frenzied and frightened - and the fear that clouds her downturned eyes does little to quell the sadness and longing in Sunshinespot. What happened? In the time that he was gone, who had hurt her? Even if he was to stay, could he have saved her, protected her? The marring of his face pulls uncomfortably as he frowns, wishing that they were in a realm where he could.

She moves quick, the grace of her limbs tangling with the excitement of reunion - only to unceremoniously fail beneath her with a struggled whine. As she shifts her weight, both to reach him and better handle her injury, he shifts forward, meeting her more than halfway. He cares not that she's different from when he left. As he holds her, cheek to cheek, his nose tucked into the fur of her shoulder... she's still the same Doe that he loves. She could become fiercer, stronger - she could no longer need his comfort, and he would still lay beside her until eternity takes them.

Sunshinespot doesn't notice the severe lack of Gentlestorm as something to note - he knows the tom left, but knows less that he hadn't told Doe about his whereabouts. Selfishly, he's grateful that the medicine cat isn't around... it'd be harder to talk with his injured friend if someone like him lingered about. Normally sluggish and lethargic in his mannerisms, the bulky tom wastes no time filling the empty space of her nest. He does well to press his body into hers, murmuring an easy, "I'll be with you until you no longer need me," to fill the air.

He shifts his weight, resting his tail around hers gently. It's only then that his lazy smile spreads, and a lone white paw pats the moss of the nest, "Y'er gonna need some new flowers here, huh? I'll fetch some come daylight," he coaxes her into normalcy, into comfort. "Any new favorites?" He has a lot of catching up to do.​

 

[doepath ࿔]

The flush press of cheek pressed against hers is a welcome affection, one that doesn't make the hairs down her spine stand on end in defensive subconsciousness. Her eyes close in quiet relief, brows pinching together in a sort of happy tension... He smells the same, tainted only by his time away and the lack of blooms from their nest. He'll be adorned in florals soon enough, if she had anything to say about it! Or rather... maybe she could bribe her sisters to find her something on their next hunting trip- Fallowbite's scent lingers in this place (was she here too?). Her ear flicks nervously, trying to slide pieces of broken memory into place- had she seen her already?

It goes forgotten, mind abuzz under the velveteen blanket of Sunshinespot's closeness. He is warm and doesn't add to the stink of blood and herbs... A welcome distraction from the current state of affairs. The haunting memory of recent reality. She's not sure there will ever be a time that she doesn't need him... a carnal sort of hunger that demands for the softness of someone else. The undying affection, the soft-gazed attention. "Forever sounds like a good start," she murmurs, leaning back against the curve of his belly behind her. There are more than a pawful of names that she can identify as 'forevers'.... Gentlestorm (whose absence has irked her), Cobwebtail (whose stilled, buried form remains unknnown to her), her many siblings (half of which bristle at eachother and her near constantly), soft-souled Orangepaw (whose selflessness worries her)... just a few in a long list.

A soft hum parts her, fluttering tired eyes closed again as he gently pats at the half-flattened moss to discuss simpler things; flowers... her nest. The tip of her tail twitches, anxious to consider how long she'd be stuck here without companions to keep the nights calm. Thrashkit had come to nap with her once... maybe if she could just convince Yippingkit and Howlkit to do the same, she might be able to cycle through shifts of little nightmare defenders. "The buttercups won't last much longer," she comments softly, imaging the soft, yellowy petals and how they reminded her of the sun's vibrant rays. "Maybe... some of those... and phlox... phlox are surprisingly soft-stemmed.... Did you know that?"​